This is You, This is Me, This is Us
by FabullusVeranius
Summary: The birth of Chris & Shaz's baby daughter brings joy and heartache in equal measure as parenthood takes its toll and Gene & Alex teeter on the edge of a precipice which could see them tumble or soar. Sequel to One Minute to Midnight. GENE/ALEX, CHRIS/SHAZ
1. Prologue

**As promised, the sequel to One Minute to Midnight! It's not entirely necessary to have read OMTM; all you really need to know is that Alex and Gene have now been together for several months, and Chris and Shaz are married. Though of course it would be lovely if you would give the first installment a read if you haven't come across it yet!**

**Since Christmas is approaching, we thought we'd do a bit of shameless promotion and give you a link to a festive oneshot we wrote and posted a couple of months back...it's called Fairytale of Fenchurch East and is basically light-hearted Christmassy fluff, both Gene/Alex and Chris/Shaz :**

**.net/s/6330804/1/bFairytale_b_of_bFenchurch_b_bEast_b (...not sure that worked, but if you'd like to read it, it's obviously on our author page!)**

**The only thing left to do is to wish you all a merry Christmas, and we hope you enjoy the prologue of our new story! :)**

In the first trimester of Shaz's pregnancy, her baby develops fingernails.

Voices rose up the stairs from Luigi's, floating out through the wrought iron railings and into the warm May evening. Two figures approached on the pavement, their step more purposeful than usual, as if they had something important they had to do, something exciting they had to tell. At the bottom of the stairs, they stopped.

"I'm kind of nervous..." Shaz hesitated with one hand on the door.

Chris shook his head in disbelief. "You're nervous? I'm bricking it." He gave her a gentle push into the room. "Come on then, let's get this over with."

Stepping over the threshold, Shaz spotted the Guv and DI Drake sitting at one end of the long table usually reserved for CID, heads close together, deep in conversation. Even in her current state of nervous excitement, she wondered for a moment at the change that had come over her superior officers in the past few months. At work, they were just the same as always, just as cutting, just as brittle, just as scathing as they had been to each other for as long as she could remember. It was in these quiet moments of relaxation in amongst it all, these rare snatches of peace and quiet, that things changed, that the edges softened and the sarcasm and frustration was worn down to contentment and satisfaction. Shaz smiled distractedly. Who said miracles didn't happen?

At that moment DI Drake looked up and, noticing her, beckoned her over to join them. "Everything all right, Shaz? You look as if something's bothering you."

"I'm fine, Ma'am," she replied instinctively. "Actually," she added, spotting Chris and Ray approaching them from the bar, "there's something I wanted – something _we _wanted – to tell you."

DI Drake took a sip from her glass of wine and looked at her intently. "I'm all ears."

"Well..." Shaz glanced up as Chris perched on a chair beside her, giving her hand an encouraging squeeze. Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself for the various reactions she knew were about to come. "Actually, we're...Chris and me, we're...we're going to have a baby."

There was a crash as Ray's pint glass slipped from his hand and shattered on the edge of the table, drenching his shirt front and resulting in a bout of choking that rendered him speechless for several seconds, while Chris banged him on the back rather more enthusiastically than was strictly necessary.

"You're going to have a what?" he managed to croak several seconds later, when he finally resurfaced, eyes streaming and face fixed in an expression of incredulous shock.

"A baby, mate." Chris grinned. "Fantastic, isn't it?"

The Guv, who had frozen at Shaz's words, his glass halfway to his lips and his eyebrows raised in an almost comical look of surprise, set down his pint and frowned. "I didn't know you had it in you, Christopher. Sure it's yours, are you?"

DI Drake rolled her eyes and Shaz opened her mouth indignantly, but Chris just nodded earnestly, grin still firmly fixed on his face as if super-glued in place. "Course I'm sure, Guv. And y'know what, the doctor says she's going to be a Christmas baby."

"She?" Alex enquired, with a smile. "Surely you can't know it's a girl yet?"

"Well, no, not really." Chris shook his head briefly, his obvious happiness and excitement somewhat akin to a child on Christmas morning. If his smile got any wider, Shaz thought, his face would be in serious danger of splitting in two. "But I reckon she's a girl. Hope so, anyway. I mean, if it's a boy that's great an' all, but a little girl would be something, wouldn't it?"

DI Drake nodded. "It would, Chris. So would a little boy. And for what it's worth, I think you're going to be a wonderful father."

For the first time, Chris's grin slipped and he looked slightly worried. "I don't know, Ma'am. There's such a lot to remember, and it's so much responsibility, you know?"

"C'mon mate, it's a _baby_," interjected Ray, who still looked slightly shell-shocked. "Can't be that difficult, can it? You could fit the little sprog in your pocket."

"Something I _don't_ suggest you try," added DI Drake, shooting an alarmed glance at Ray.

"Don't worry, Ma'am, I'll keep an eye on him," said Shaz with a grin. "We'll be fine. It's so exciting!"

"It is." DI Drake took both of Shaz's hands in hers. "Congratulations," she told her warmly. "You too, Chris. You're going to have the most wonderful experience."

Shaz beamed. "I know." She looked from Ray and the Guv, neither of whom had quite recovered the power of coherent speech, to DI Drake, and smiled. "You're not surprised, Ma'am?"

DI Drake laughed. "Not altogether, no."

"You knew?"

"No, I can't say I knew, exactly," DI Drake replied with a smile. "I just...had an inkling. Once you've had a child of your own these things are clearer."

"In what way?" Shaz frowned. "We tried so hard to keep it a secret."

"Oh, you did," DI Drake set her glass down. "Very well. I was never quite sure. It was just little things. You looked different, both of you. Happier, more relaxed. Chris has spent the last two months treating you like a piece of glass." She eyed Shaz's coke. "You haven't been drinking."

Shaz laughed ruefully. "I suppose that was a bit of a giveaway. Not that _they_ noticed." She nodded over at the Guv and Ray, who were bombarding Chris with questions over the other side of the table.

DI Drake raised an eyebrow. "It would probably have taken you actually being wheeled into hospital to have made those two sit up and take notice."

"You're probably right," acknowledged Shaz with a sigh. After a brief pause, she turned back to her DI almost hesitantly. "Ma'am, do you think you and the Guv will ever..."

"Ever...have children, you mean?" DI Drake looked mildly surprised. "I don't think Gene Hunt is really the type to croon over a baby, do you?"

Shaz laughed at the image that entered her mind at the words. "I suppose not. It's just..." She ran a finger around the rim of her glass, hoping she hadn't asked a completely inappropriate question. "It's just...you both seem so happy now. Y'know, since...since you got together. It's like...I don't know, like you complete each other or something. I just thought maybe you'd want..." She blushed and looked down at the table. "Sorry, it's not really my place to ask."

"Don't apologise, Shaz." DI Drake flicked a glance over to the bar, where the Guv, Chris and Ray were getting another round in and explaining the news to a thoroughly overexcited Luigi. "It's just not...something we've ever talked about, really. I mean, I'm not saying it'll never happen, I just –"

The end of DI Drake's sentence was abruptly cut off as Shaz found herself almost knocked off her chair, submerged beneath a torrent of rapid Italian as her hands were seized and her cheeks kissed repeatedly and with considerable gusto. When she finally emerged, rather breathless, from Luigi's overenthusiastic embrace, Shaz could only laugh.

* * *

In the second trimester of her pregnancy, Shaz feels her baby kick.

It was one of the stiflingly hot July days that left CID fractious, when there was little to do other than attempt overdue paperwork and snipe at one another out of pure, heat-fuelled frustration. For the hundredth time that day, Alex swept her hair off her face and sat back with a weary sigh. Chris had wilted over a pile of witness statements and Ray was pelting him with balls of screwed up paper, cigarette hanging out of his mouth as though it too was drooping in the heat. After the third one missed and hit Shaz, she finally snapped.

"Ray! I'm _trying_ to work! Can you stop throwing that bloody paper?"

Ray scowled at her. "You need to keep your hormones under control, PC Skelton."

Chris looked up then. "Leave her alone, mate."

"Poof. Just because you got her up the duff, it doesn't mean you have to agree with her all the time. "

"You are _so _disgusting, Ray." Shaz got up from her desk and slammed the desk drawer shut with a bang. Alex suddenly noticed the curve of her stomach beneath her uniform, a small, neat bump that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere, an image that sent a strange shiver of solidarity down her spine, a splinter of knowledge that she couldn't quite grasp. "Chris and I are having a baby. It wasn't an accident; it didn't just _happen_. I know the concept of adult relationships is lost on you, but you could at least try and keep up."

She swept across the room to the filing cabinet, banging drawers with a flourish while Ray glared at her, and Gene's door swung suddenly open to reveal the man himself, tie loose around his neck and shirt sticking to his skin.

"Would someone like to tell me why the bloody hell it sounds like Hannibal's elephants are trampling through my ruddy office?"

Alex kept her head down. Gene Hunt did not deal well with heat, and girlfriend or not, he would not hesitate to snap at her if she made some sarcastic comment about his distinctly dishevelled appearance.

"Sorry Guv." Shaz glared at Ray and brushed one of his balls of paper pointedly off her desk. "Some people couldn't keep their hands to themselves."

Gene scowled. "Delightful as that sounds, Shaz, it's almost ninety degrees outside, Fred and Ginger are tap-dancing on the inside of my skull and the last thing I need is a lot of slamming around! Comprende?"

"Yes Guv." Shaz returned to her seat as Ray looked on smugly, leaning back in his chair to blow out a long stream of cigarette smoke.

"As for you, Carling, I think it's time you unscrewed your arse from that chair and did some work for a change. What happened to those witness statements you were supposed to be chasing up?" He clapped his hands together. "Come on, mush!"

"Come on, Guv, it's boiling out there. You can't be serious!"

Alex recognised the dangerous glint in Gene's eye a split second before anyone else. It was the look he had when his authority was challenged, when someone disobeyed a direct order and the Manc Lion hat went on. Yet it was also the look he had when someone else paid her a compliment, when he took her upstairs and kissed the breath from her, and it made her shiver, this look that was half professional pride and half male jealousy.

"If I wanted your opinion on how to run this office, DI Carling, I'd bloody ask for it. Now _shift_."

Ray got to his feet, and Alex noticed that his shirt was darkened with sweat patches. He shook his head, jabbing his finger once at Shaz.

"It's all her fault. She's the one making trouble. Bloody pregnancy hormones have turned her into a right psycho."

"Oi!" Chris was on his feet now and Alex groaned, dragging her hands across her face and up through her hair. This was turning into a Shakespearean farce. "You leave her alone."

"For the love of God-" Gene took a deep breath.

"_Chris! _I _don't _need you to fight my battles! If Ray's going to be a misogynistic pig, then-"

And then, quite suddenly, Shaz fell quiet. There was a fraction of silence, where everyone waited for the recriminations that never quite came, and then they blinked, breathed, and the moment was broken.

There was the strangest expression on Shaz's face. The anger was still there, frozen, a snapshot of a moment, but there was surprise too, and a pure, naked emotion that could only be wonder. Her hands were on her stomach, one pressed either side of her bellybutton, and when she spoke again, her voice caught on the first syllable.

"Chris...Chris, you need to feel this." Her tone was low, urgent, shaky, and Chris moved more fluidly than Alex had ever seen him, fitting his hands around Shaz's as she watched him. He waited, face contorted in concentration and confusion, and then he jumped, almost as if she'd burned him.

"_Bloody hell_." His voice was barely more than a whisper.

Ray turned to Gene. "It's finally happened. He's gone stark raving mad."

Chris shook his head impatiently, beckoning to them with one hand. "The baby's moving. It's kicking or somersaulting or...I dunno, playing footie. It's amazing."

Something made Alex look over at Gene. He was watching Shaz, but his eyes flicked suddenly over to her, that piercing look that could make her feel so intensely vulnerable. There was something in his gaze, some indefinable emotion which reminded her, curiously, of longing, and she felt it clutch at her like a hand closing around her heart.

It was oddly compelling, the way he was looking at her, and she shivered, tore herself away and got to her feet, made her way over to Chris and Shaz and then hugged them both.

"Congratulations!" Even as she fussed over Shaz and pressed her own hand to feel the fluttering of this miraculous new baby, Alex could feel his eyes on her, tracking her movements, a watch dog, her very own guardian angel. And when she went into the kitchen to make a cup of tea for Shaz, he followed her there, footsteps matching hers like a shadow.

She turned round and found him suddenly upon her, this tall, powerful figure who radiated safety and strength, and she froze, because he was so fiercely private, so vehemently against public displays of affection, that she was momentarily lost, unsure of what he wanted.

He didn't say anything, just kicked the door shut and touched her, his hands tracing down her sides to the cradle of her hips, thumbs stroking almost reverently over her skin. She just watched him, afraid of touching him and destroying this controlled, fragile moment, and eventually he dipped his head and kissed her. For once, he was hesitant, as though this was their first kiss and he was no more than a schoolboy, and she sensed his shyness, cupped his face in her hands and responded with an intensity she knew he would find reassuring.

"Can I stay at yours tonight?" he mumbled in her ear as he kissed a slow path up her neck, and she smiled at him, at this unaccustomed timidity.

"Well, I've got Ray pencilled in for nine, but if you make it a late dinner..."

He growled against her neck and then kissed her fiercely, possessively, a statement in no uncertain terms that she was his, and his alone. When he broke off, he leaned his forehead against hers, chest heaving, eyes closed, and when he opened them again, the uncertainty had disappeared like smoke in water and his countenance was clear again, confident, assured.

"Bloody hell, woman, I only came in here to make a cup of tea and here you go taking advantage of me." He skirted past her and took his mug out of the cupboard, pretended to inspect it.

"Because that's exactly what happened," she answered drily. She didn't know what had come over him, why he had reacted with such intensity to the quickening of Shaz's baby, but she knew he wouldn't appreciate an interrogation, not here, not now. So she just boiled the kettle and they made tea side-by-side, and then the phone rang and a tip-off came and then they were racing out of the building into the burning July sun.

And so the moment was forgotten, swept away like flotsam in the waves, and when he made love to her more tenderly than usual that night, she put it down to the wine and the rom-com he'd sworn he hated. So the clock ticked on and life continued and the moments where Shaz stood still to feel the movements of her child became frequent and ignored. But the wind of change was blowing, weaving through the office like a sylph, and they felt it, each of them brushed by the knowledge that the baby growing within her would trail revolution in its wake.

* * *

In the third trimester of her pregnancy, Shaz goes into labour.

It was Christmas Eve, and at Fenchurch East the mood was distinctly festive. For once, the streets were relatively quiet and the atmosphere was more like a party than a police station. Spangled red and gold tinsel had been draped around the room, and a few brightly coloured baubles gave the station a slightly garish but nonetheless cheerful aspect. It was still well before ten o'clock in the morning, but already the mince pies had done several rounds of the room and everyone was well supplied with whiskey.

"How's Shaz doing, Chris?" Alex enquired as she handed him a bundle of files.

"Not too bad, Ma'am," he replied brightly. "She didn't feel brilliant this morning, right before I left she had a bit of a stomach ache..." He shrugged offhandedly. "Probably last night's curry, it did look a bit dodgy now I think of it...she'll be right as rain by now, I reckon."

Alex frowned and opened her mouth to say something, but at that moment Ray appeared at Chris's side and the conversation was abruptly ended. Alex turned back to her paperwork with a sigh. She was all for a bit of Christmas spirit, but some things just couldn't wait, and unfortunately this report was one of them.

She barely noticed when the phone on her desk started to ring about twenty minutes later, and it was only a well-aimed pen from Ray that woke her up to its persistent trill. Marking her place with a ruler, Alex reached for the receiver and settled it comfortably on her shoulder.

"CID."

"Ma'am – oh, is that you?"

"Shaz?" Alex sat up. "Is there anything wrong?"

"Not really, Ma'am, at least...is – is Chris there?" Shaz's voice sounded slightly hysterical, and Alex frowned in concern. Catching Chris's eye, she beckoned him over.

"Of course he is, Shaz. He's right here." Alex handed the phone to Chris and looked back at her report, but she could hear Shaz's voice rising in panic over the phone, and she suspected she knew what was happening. Chris had gone completely white, his face drained of every wisp of colour.

"What? _Now_?" His sharp exclamation quelled all conversation, and the room fell completely silent as he listened. "Are you sure?" A pause. "Yeah, yeah of course. Give me ten minutes, love. I'll be there." He dropped the receiver back into the cradle and turned around, completely stunned, to find a room full of people staring silently back at him.

Ray was the first to break the silence. "What's up, mate? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Shaz is..." Chris swallowed hard, clearly struggling to find the words. "She's...she's only bloody having the baby."

"You're joking!" The room erupted in cheers, and before Chris could say another word he was engulfed by the entirety of CID, having his hand practically shaken off and slapped on the back to within an inch of his life.

When the crowds had somewhat subsided, Alex made her way over to Chris and gave him an impulsive hug. "Chris, this is wonderful."

"Yeah...yeah, it is, isn't it?" Chris looked slightly dazed. Alex put an arm around his shoulders and propelled him towards his desk, handing him his jacket.

"You need to take Shaz to the hospital now. Take one of the pool cars." Chris didn't move, his expression still one of complete bewilderment. "Go!"

"Right, yeah." He took a deep breath and grinned. "Blimey, we're having a baby!" Alex watched him leave, and as the door swung shut behind him, she smiled.

Chris's departure acted like a weight on the rest of the day, so that each minute felt like an hour and each job felt like an interminable trawl through treacle. Everyone was jumpy, as though thousands of women didn't go through labour every day and it was some rare procedure in which her safety rested on a knife edge. Even Alex herself, who knew theoretically that Shaz had every chance of emerging from the experience right as rain, found herself jumping every time the phone rang.

By the time they got to Luigi's, the atmosphere was fraught with anticipation. There had been no news since Chris had hurried off that morning, and even Ray was staring into his beer with an expression akin to disquiet on his face.

"D'you reckon we should go the hospital?" Gene had joined her at the bar and she turned to face him, trying to hide her smile. That these men, who tried so hard to maintain an image of impassivity and hard masculinity, were so worried about the fate of a baby whose existence they had petulantly bemoaned, was both warming and amusing in equal measure.

"Gene, it's her first baby. The first birth is always the hardest. Even if she's been in labour since seven o'clock, that's only fifteen hours or so. It took me eighteen."

It felt strange talking about her own pregnancy. Some things were brilliantly, painfully clear, while others felt like butterflies, perpetually flitting out of her grasp as she grabbed at memories. It always made her feel as though her perception was thrown off, like something in the corner of your eye that you can't quite focus on, or a longing for something you can't identify. It was disconcerting, and she shook it off, concentrated her attention on Gene, on Shaz and the child she was bringing into the world.

He frowned at her. "Bloody hell. It's a baby she's pushing out, not a flipping rhino."

"Sensitive as ever."

He huffed and she leaned her head briefly on his shoulder, careful not to make him uncomfortable in front of the team. "It's natural to be worried, but she'll be fine." Her voice was lower now, less teasing, and she squeezed his hand under the table.

"The Gene Genie," he bristled predictably, "does not worryabout silly nancy girly things like _giving birth_."

"Of course not. And I bet you're not proud of Chris either. Or excited about seeing the baby."

"Has anyone ever told you, Bolls, that you talk a load of bollocks?"

She laughed. "Only you. Frequently."

"Quite right too. Birds like you need taking down a peg or two."

Ray joined them before she could retort, pulling up a bar stool and ordering another pint. He was almost fidgety, Alex noticed, and it touched her to see how much he genuinely cared about Chris and Shaz, despite all the jibes and teasing and mockery.

"You two aren't being all lovey-dovey, are you?" His tone was suspicious.

Gene snorted. "Give me some credit, Raymondo. The day the Gene Genie turns into a soppy git is the day Fenchurch East goes to shit." Beneath the cover of the bar, he twined his fingers with Alex's. She hid a smile.

"Shouldn't they have called by now? Not that I'm worried or anything, just wondering if Luigi's phone's up the shoot again. In case he needs to, you know, get it looked at or something."

Alex nodded, trying to keep a straight face. "Of course. Well, I suppose-" She was interrupted by Luigi himself, voice barely audible over the hubbub.

"Mr Hunt! There is phone call for you!" He shook his head. "_Prontissimo_, Mr Hunt. I am expecting bookings."

Gene glared at him. "I wouldn't hold your breath, Luigi. That veal leaves a lot to be desired." He strode over to the desk and picked up the receiver. Alex and Ray waited, faces cast in a rainbow by the lights twinkling above them, and strained to hear over the Christmas music blaring from the jukebox. "Right. Right. Bloody hell. _What_? I'll tell them." There was a pause. "Thanks for letting us know."

He hung up. He returned to where they were standing and for a moment his face was unreadable, but then it split into a huge, unashamed smile, the type of which turned Alex's legs to jelly, a rare expression of untainted, undisguised delight. It reminded her of waking up together, when she opened her eyes to find him watching her, fingers on her skin and a smile playing around his lips.

Outside, the first flakes of snow had begun to fall, answering children's prayers and weathermen's predictions for a white Christmas, as white and pure as if the whole city had been dipped in yoghurt. Elsewhere, tired children set out mince pies and brandy for Father Christmas, and overwrought parents wrapped last minute presents and took artful bites from Santa's snacks.

But there in Luigi's, as the clock ticked towards Christmas Day and the lights twinkled merrily on, Gene announced the birth of Ruthie Grace Skelton, and while all across the country, people lifted their voices to praise the coming of another child, so long ago, the CID of Fenchurch East revelled in their very own Christmas miracle.


	2. Chapter 1

**Thank you all for your lovely reviews - please keep them coming, they really do mean a lot! Here's the next chapter - enjoy! :)**

Boxing Day 1983 was bitterly cold. Snow had threatened all week but only now did it make an appearance, thick clouds hanging low in the grey sky and an icy wind rattling around the quiet London streets. Alex clutched the turkey platter to her chest and tried to bite back a shiver.

"Gene, are you going to ring the doorbell or are we going to stand out here freezing all afternoon?"

From behind her, Gene grunted. He was struggling up the steps to the front door of the flat Chris and Shaz shared, a bag of presents hanging from the crook of one elbow and arms wrapped around three stacked plates of vegetables. Balanced precariously on top was a tureen of bread sauce.

"If you insist on loading me up like a bloody cart horse, woman, you'll have to live with the fact it slows me down."

She grinned at him. "What if I give you a carrot and rub your nose?"

He huffed. "You'd have to rub a lot lower than that to get round me this time, love."

"Oh Christ." Ray staggered up behind Alex and pressed the doorbell comically with his forehead, hands wrapped round a clutch of wine bottles. "We've already got to play happy families with these two inside, I don't want to be gooseberry to you as well. Enough to put a man off his Christmas dinner, all this coupley bollocks."

"No fear, Raymondo, we'll be one couple down in a minute if Mrs Lady Woman over here doesn't stop treating me like her very own bloody chariot."

Alex sighed. "It's _Christmas_. Do you think we could stop bickering _for one bloody day,_ because if we don't, I'll...Chris!" The door opening stopped Alex mid-flow and she stepped inside, shivering in relief as the central heating cloaked her in a mantle of warmth. "Let me just put this lot down and then I'll say hello properly." She moved further into the flat. She had only been here a couple of times – once for their house-warming party a couple of months after the wedding and then again to bring Shaz home when she was suffering with morning sickness, but she'd been struck then by how homely they'd made it. It was by no means large, with two bedrooms, a bathroom, sitting room and a kitchen-come-dining room, but it was warm and welcoming and young. It felt like a home, which was more than she could say for her own flat sometimes.

Their dining room table had been extended to seat the five of them, and Alex set down the food in the middle. Gene and Ray followed her in, placing their own packages next to hers with exaggerated groans of relief. "Where's Shaz, Chris?" She pulled him into a slightly awkward hug.

"Er, she's just getting changed, Ma'am. The baby was sick on her."

"Ah, the joys of newborns." She smiled at him. "Now, are you sure about all this, Chris? You must both be exhausted. What time did you get back from the hospital?"

"Shaz's mum and dad dropped us off a couple of hours ago." He looked bone-tired, his eyes a little red-rimmed and his smile ever so slightly strained, but he brightened up when Shaz returned, the baby swathed in pink blankets and clutched to her chest. "We couldn't put Christmas dinner off, could we? Well, not more than a day, anyway."

"Well said, Christopher." Gene clapped him robustly on the shoulder and he staggered slightly under the onslaught. "We've been slaving over this lunch all day, haven't we, Lady Bolls?"

She gave him a look. "_We?_ I think the closest you got to the kitchen was to get another couple of beers for you and Ray." She turned pointedly to Shaz. She was pale and tired, but her chin was high and her whole being exuded maternal pride. "How are you feeling, Shaz?"

Shaz smiled at her, and it was a real smile, weary but content. "A bit tired, Ma'am, but not too bad. They didn't have to use stitches and they were desperate for beds, so they couldn't wait to get rid of me." She glanced over to make sure the men were out of earshot and pulled a face. "Bit scary, if I'm honest. I haven't got a clue what I'm doing half the time."

Alex put an arm around her and gave her a gentle squeeze. "It'll come in time. Everyone's terrified at first. Try not to worry too much about what everyone else tells you. Just do what feels right to you."

Shaz nodded. "Thanks, Ma'am." She looked up again then and gave her a shy smile. "Do you want to...hold her?"

Alex beamed. "I thought you'd never ask!" She took the baby as if she were a piece of glass, marvelling at how natural it seemed, all these years later. It wasn't that she'd avoided babies after Molly grew up, but she had always had a sneaking guilt that she couldn't give her little girl a sibling to play with and so she subconsciously stuck to single-child families just like hers. That, and in the years after her messy divorce from Pete, it was always a little galling to pick Molly up from a house brimming with balance and busy family life.

She brought herself sharply back to the present. Molly's face swam vaguely through her mind but she never saw her these days, never heard her voice. She was a spectre, always in the background but slipping further away with each passing day, and sometimes Alex could almost believe her other existence had been a dream. Somehow, her relationship with Gene had acted like a balm, soothing the sting into a dull ache that sometimes seemed intangible and insignificant. Once, that would have terrified her. Now, it seemed like some distant fairytale.

"She's gorgeous," she said softly, tucking the blankets back to see Ruthie's face properly. And she was. She wasn't jaundiced or underweight or blotchy. She was the perfect pearly pink of healthy newborns, her hair just the finest dark down, her hands tiny and wrinkled and flawless. "It's the nails that get me." Ruthie curled her fist around Alex's finger and she smiled. "They're exactly right, just in miniature. Even the ridges on them are perfect." Tenderly, she brushed her fingers over the baby's face. Deep inside her, something ached.

Gene came up behind her, sliding an arm around her waist. It still gave her a thrill that he was comfortable enough to do that, that around their team he'd thrown off the self-consciousness just far enough to show tiny glimmers of his affection.

"She's going to be a looker, all right. Are you sure you're the father, Christopher?"

But Chris didn't hear. He was sitting on the sofa beside Shaz, his arm around her shoulders and her head tucked under his chin. Ray, who was setting plates out for each of them on the table, rolled his eyes at Gene and Alex.

"Bloody poof. The missus has a baby and he turns softer than dog shit."

Chris looked up at that and gave them a sheepish grin. It felt strange to Alex to be in Chris's territory, where for once he had more knowledge and authority than any of them. Ray shook his head in a disgust that Alex suspected wasn't entirely genuine before searching out a cigarette and flicking his lighter.

"Ray!" Alex was scandalised. "Just because your lungs are ruined beyond repair, it doesn't mean you should start on the baby's!"

Ray frowned. "Bit of smoke never hurt anyone. My old man used to have fifty fags a day and I turned out just fine."

"Debatable," she muttered under her breath, but Chris stepped in before the bickering could escalate.

"Look mate, er, me and Shazzer have decided that no one can smoke in here anymore. We've got a little balcony off our room – you can smoke out there if you want."

Ray stared at him. "On the balcony? I'll freeze my bloody knackers off standing out there!"

There was silence. Even Gene made no comment, no withering remark about Shaz and Chris's new rules. Alex glanced at him, mildly surprised.

Eventually, Ray sighed. "_Fine_. But if I come back in and my balls have gone blue from frostbite..."

"We'll grow your perm and start calling you Shirley," Gene interrupted and Alex bit back a laugh. Ruthie stirred in her arms, roused by the noise, and Alex jiggled her lightly, smiling as her eyes fluttered briefly open.

"Blue eyes," Gene remarked softly in her ear.

"All babies have blue eyes when they're born. Hers might turn dark like Shaz's when she gets a bit older."

She glanced up at him and found him staring at her, face set in some unreadable expression that made her self-conscious. His hand slid from her waist to her hip and back up again in an almost unconscious motion, and for a heartbeat it seemed like the whole world was caught up in his gaze like a fly in a web, but then Ruthie started to cry, an enraged, pitiful sound, and the moment was gone.

"I think," Alex said, moving away from Gene and smiling at Chris, "that maybe she just wants her daddy."

Chris gave her a look of vague panic as he got up from the sofa and took the baby from her, but as soon as she was in his arms he visibly straightened, tiredness dissipating as he cradled the child he had created. He rocked her gently and then more vigorously as her crying failed to cease, and Alex could see a red-hot flush of embarrassment creep up his neck as Ruthie grew more and more agitated.

She was torn between stepping in to offer him advice on wind or hunger or a dirty nappy, and fear of making him even more self-conscious, and she could see Shaz was having the same dilemma. She was sitting forward on the sofa now, senses hyperaware the moment she heard Ruthie stir, and her whole body was tense with uncertainty.

It was Gene who broke the impasse, evidently oblivious to Chris's awkward embarrassment.

"Right, Christopher, hand the kiddie over. Can't be that difficult, can it?"

Chris looked as if he wanted to object, his eyes wide with alarm, but Gene planted his champagne glass down on the table and held out his hands expectantly, and with a weak smile Chris yielded the baby to him.

"Right then." Gene tucked Ruthie into the crook of his arm and gave her a cursory glance. "Looks happy enough with the Gene Genie, doesn't she?" Sure enough, Ruthie's wails were tailing off, and before long she had grizzled herself quiet, her little chest rising and falling evenly in sleep.

"Guv, how d'you do that?" Ray, wandering in from the balcony, looked astonished. "She was screaming blue murder a minute ago, now she's out like a light."

"Well..." Gene looked almost equally surprised, but shrugged it off breezily. "Piece of cake really, wasn't it?" He stooped to pick up his glass, apparently unconcerned that he had a small child nestled in one arm. "Look, it's like women. You've either got it...or you haven't."

Alex winced, witnessing the fleeting look of pain that flickered across Chris's face at his words. To his credit, Gene realised what he'd said immediately and backtracked, albeit rather unconvincingly. "Or, y'know...well, it's luck, isn't it? She'd probably scream the place down if she woke up now and saw my scary old face looming over her."

"I wouldn't blame her," Alex put in, attempting to deflect the mood. "Beginner's luck, Gene. Don't get complacent; next time she'll be more of a handful. It takes practice. Right, Chris?"

There was a pause. "Right," Chris replied finally, taking a step towards Gene and gazing down at his baby daughter. "Yeah. Anyway, she looks happy now, doesn't she?"

Gene looked down at the tiny bundle in his arms. "Course she does. That's the effect the Gene Genie has on women, whatever their age." He paused, and for a moment there was an expression in his eyes that Alex had never seen before. "Looks quite a lot like Shaz, doesn't she?" he said unexpectedly. "She'll be a pretty little thing when she's a bit less wrinkled and snotty."

Chris grinned. "That's what I said. She's the spitting image of her mum, isn't she? Don't know that there's much of me in there, she's all Shaz."

"Lucky for her, an' all," said Ray with a raised eyebrow. "Poor kid wouldn't stand a chance, would she?"

Alex moved to stand beside Gene, scrutinising Ruthie's peaceful little face, the soft, almost translucent skin; the pert little nose; the gentle drift of dark eyelashes on the flawless cheek. "I don't know, Chris. Babies change a lot. I think you might be surprised."

Chris beamed. "You reckon, Ma'am?"

"Oh, definitely." Alex smiled. "Either way, you've got a beautiful little girl there."

Ray scowled as Chris went dewy-eyed. "Bloody hell, it's a baby. Two arms, two legs, definitely overactive in the nappy area. Hardly calls for tears, does it?"

Alex rolled her eyes. "Your emotional sensitivity continues to astound me, Ray," she said drily.

Ray shrugged. "It's not my fault if I'd rather go for a pint and watch the match than get chucked up on repeatedly by something that looks like a cross between a maggot and a prune, is it?" He caught Chris's eye. "Er...not that she's not lovely and everything..."

"She certainly is," said Alex sweetly. "In fact, why don't you give her a cuddle, Ray?"

"Give her a _what_?" Ray looked horrified. "Look, she's happy where she is, all right?" He shot Gene a faintly disgusted look. "And so's the Guv, by the looks of things."

"Well, well, well." Alex shook her head. "Ray Carling, I never would have thought that you of all people would be scared of a baby."

"Stow it, will you? I'm not _scared_ of her," Ray muttered. "It's just...not my style. Babies, and that."

"Right." Alex raised one eyebrow. "If that's what you want us to think..."

"Fine," Ray growled. "Give her here then." He reached out and gingerly lifted Ruthie out of Gene's arms, his expression distinctly uneasy. Slightly regretting goading him, Alex hovered, prepared to snatch the baby from him at a split second's notice. Glancing across at the sofa, she was infinitely relieved to find that Shaz was fast asleep, her breathing coming deep and even. She'd had quite enough to worry about over the last couple of days, without witnessing this. It was certainly a blessing that she was out for the count. Even Chris looked alarmed.

Ruthie remained peacefully asleep during the transfer, the only sign that she was aware of any change a slight snuffle as Ray tucked her rather awkwardly into the crook of his arm, one hand hovering around her head as if he thought she might break into pieces at any moment.

A few seconds passed as Ruthie slept on and Ray visibly broke into a sweat. "Right, well, I've...I've held her now, haven't I? Chris, why don't you –" But as he spoke, Ruthie's little fist emerged from her blanket to curl loosely around his finger, and he faltered. "Oh."

Chris grinned. "You've got a fan there, mate."

"Well, I mean..." Ray cleared his throat. "Well, she's all right, I suppose." He looked down at her again. "I could...hold onto her a bit, if you wanted a break...y'know, if you're going to twist my arm, I mean."

Alex hid a smile. "How thoughtful of you, Ray."

"What's going on?" Shaz appeared at Chris's shoulder, stifling a yawn. "Ray!" She looked surprised, but pleasantly so. "Oh look, she likes you..."

"All right, all right." Ray glared at her. "It's not like I'm _bothered_ or anything. I mean, come on, she's a baby. She's not...I mean, she's only...oh, will you just take her?" He thrust the baby at Shaz and shoved his hands into his pockets, clearing his throat loudly and glowering at no-one in particular.

Gene drained his glass and glanced at the clock on the wall. "Much as I hate to break up all the baby talk," he said with more than a hint of impatience, "I'm bloody starving here. Any chance we could continue this over dinner?"

Five minutes later, Ruthie fast asleep in her cot in the corner of the room, they were all seated around Chris and Shaz's kitchen table, slightly cramped but far from complaining. The food had survived the journey remarkably well, and when it was unveiled the gleaming turkey gave off a wonderful scent which silenced them all for several seconds while they appreciated it. Chris did the rounds with the wine, Gene rolled up his sleeves and set about carving the turkey with an impressive expertise, and even Ray was persuaded to act the gentleman and help everyone to vegetables.

Alex, who knew from experience just how draining the first few days of motherhood were, positioned herself beside Shaz, ready to spare her from having to do anything which wasn't completely necessary, but soon found herself to be almost entirely redundant. Chris, sitting on Shaz's other side, barely took his eyes off his exhausted wife for the entire meal, and Alex had to smile at his eager but typically hopeless attentiveness.

"Shaz, you never said," remembered Alex a few minutes later, pausing in the action of helping her friend to more gravy, "Why Ruthie? It's a lovely name, but it's more traditional than I expected. Any particular reason?"

"Not really, Ma'am," Shaz replied with a shrug. "It just felt right, you know? And we didn't really want to name her after anyone. We wanted her to have her own name, all to herself."

"Anyway, Shaz had already picked her middle name after someone," Chris added, laying down his knife and fork and ducking under the table for the fifth or sixth time to retrieve Shaz's napkin for her.

"Oh?" Alex set the gravy boat back on its saucer and turned back to Shaz with interest.

"Grace." Shaz smiled. "She's the little girl in _Little House on the Prairie_. I've always loved the name."

"Are you kidding?" Ray swallowed an enormous mouthful of turkey with some difficulty. "If you were going to name her after some kid off the telly, you could have called her anything! Think of the possibilities. Ruthie Goober. Ruthie Danger Mouse. And you went for Grace?"

"Oi." Shaz gave him a stern look. "If any poor woman is ever brainwashed or drugged enough to have your kids, you go ahead and name them Goober and Danger Mouse. Just be prepared for them to hate you forever."

Ray looked rather indignant, and Alex hurriedly clapped her hands together. "I'd like to propose a toast." She raised her glass. "To Christmas. To the future. And, most importantly, to our new arrival." She smiled at Chris and Shaz. "To Ruthie."

"To Ruthie," they echoed, and as the little girl herself slept on peacefully oblivious in the corner of the room, Alex, Gene, Chris, Shaz and Ray raised their glasses in celebration of a Christmas which none of them would ever forget.

* * *

Not long after the Christmas pudding had been demolished, the last dregs of champagne drained and the dishes cleared away and packed neatly into the back of the Quattro, Gene, Alex and Ray said their goodbyes and left Chris and Shaz to enjoy their first Christmas with their baby daughter.

In the sitting room, Chris stood looking down at Ruthie as she slept, his knuckles white on the edge of her cot. "Shaz, I can't do this."

"What are you talking about?" Shaz, perched on the sofa examining a book Alex had given her, looked up at him and frowned.

He sighed heavily. "I can't...I just can't do _any_ of it. I can't even pick up my own baby without making her cry."

"Chris, she's a baby. That's what they do."

He turned away from the cot abruptly. "Not with you, she doesn't. Or at least, you know how to make her stop."

"No, I don't!" Shaz put her book to one side and sat forward, her tone exasperated. "Do you think I know any more about _any_ of this than you do?" He didn't answer. "I have no _idea_ what I'm doing. I'm just doing my best to muddle through until it makes sense."

"But you get it _right_," he persisted, his voice cracking slightly. "And anyway, it's not just you. She stopped crying as soon as the Guv picked her up, she slept all the way through _Ray_ holding her, for Christ's sake. But I can't get it right." He paused, dropped his hands to his sides in a gesture of complete helplessness. "What if...I mean, what if she doesn't..._like _me?"

"Chris." Shaz got to her feet and put her arms around him, resting her head on his shoulder. "She's a baby. And anyway, she _does_ like you. More than that. She _loves _you. Not because she doesn't cry, or because she falls asleep when you hold her. She loves you because you're her daddy."

He blinked. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." She smiled. "Look, sit down. I'll show you." She bent to pick up Ruthie, carrying her over to the sofa and sitting down beside him. "Here." She settled the baby in Chris's arms, and as she did so Ruthie stirred and her eyes flickered open. As they watched, her little face contorted and a choky sob started up. Chris faltered and looked at Shaz helplessly.

"Shaz, I don't know how to –"

"Yes, you do. Relax. Talk to her. Rock her. Tickle her. Anything. She's not fussy you know, she's only two days old."

"Right." Chris looked down at his daughter, and suddenly, for the first time, he understood that she was a _baby_, that she wasn't going to judge him or disregard him, and that, most surprisingly of all, he loved her. And then, although he wasn't sure exactly what he'd done, as if Ruthie had somehow understood everything that had just gone through his head, the sobs subsided little by little into hiccups, and eventually she fell silent.

"There you go." Shaz beamed. "I told you you could do it."

It wasn't enough, not really. There was no sudden rush of knowledge, no certainty that now everything was going to be all right. There was still a lot to learn, and the prospect had never seemed more daunting. But it was something, one small step forward, and that was what counted.

* * *

By the time Gene and Alex returned to the flat, the air was thick with tension. It had been building all day, born of little touches, looks and caresses, the knowledge that they had to hold back, be respectable because they had company. But now, alone in her flat with nowhere to be for the next two days, the facade dropped, the pretence falling away to reveal a desperate, burning need.

"Shit, Alex," he muttered as she locked the door and pushed him against it, hands sliding up his chest to the back of his neck. Her body was flush against his and he flipped them, dragging his mouth from hers to bite hard on her earlobe. She squeaked. There was something in his eyes, something she'd noticed earlier, a blazing possessiveness, an intense need to own and be owned. It was odd, because the only unattached male today had been Ray, but she had felt Gene's eyes on her all day, tracking her like a trophy. It should have repelled her, but instead, it only excited her further.

Their kisses were heated, punctuated by the swipe of tongues and the nip of teeth, hands travelling swiftly over flushed skin. Gene played her like a lyre, familiar enough now to know what she liked, what made her squirm and what elicited those delicious mews from the back of her throat, and she matched him kiss for kiss in this fierce dance of dominance.

They backed into the bedroom, leaving clothes behind them like a paper trail, and he pushed her down onto the bed with a gentleness that belied his passion. She gazed up at him, naked and shameless and gloriously, unbelievably his, and he kicked away his trousers before allowing her to pull him down on top of her.

"Gene." She fumbled between them, breathless. Neither of them were bothered with teasing, with pretences. They were comfortable enough by now to accept and admit that all they wanted was the act itself, the primitive pleasure of skin-on-skin, being literally wrapped up in each other. "_Gene_."

He paused in the trail he was kissing down her neck. "What?"

"Condom." She squirmed against him. He bent his head and licked once up her throat.

"Let's not bother tonight."

She froze. He was trying to kiss her, to distract her, to move things on, but she put a hand in the middle of his chest, pushed him back.

"No," she said slowly. She was trying to meet his eyes, but he was steadfastly avoiding her gaze. "Let's bother."

There was a heartbeat's pause and then he was leaning across her to fumble in the bedside drawer, and things moved on as normal and any strange behaviour on his part was forgotten in the heat of the moment. It was only later, lying in his arms and listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing, that his odd, unexpected comment came back to her.

But it was late and it was Christmas and the thoughts it raised within her were too painful to examine, so Alex Drake simply closed her eyes and forced herself to sleep.


	3. Chapter 2

**As always, thank you for all your wonderful reviews, we really do appreciate them! Apologies for the delay between updates these days, a combination of university life and being about 250 miles apart from one another does slow things down a bit...but we're doing our best! Please keep the reviews coming, and we hope you enjoy the chapter :)**

It was New Year's Eve. As time swept steadily on, radio broadcasters described celebrations across the globe – first Wellington, then Sydney, then Hong Kong – and now the end of 1983 hovered within England's grasp.

Outside, it was pouring, a steady, wintry rain that rattled against the windows, a not-quite sleet that nonetheless threatened snow, and down on the road a police car squealed around the corner, sirens screaming.

Inside the flat, it was peaceful. They were watching some old _Carry On _film and Alex had her legs in his lap, the threadbare blue blanket tucked lightly around her and two mugs of half-drunk tea leaving rings on the coffee table. It should have been an oasis of calm. It should have been a lazy afternoon of telly and domesticity, of the simple comfort of just existing with the person you love. But Gene was antsy. It was as though thousands of fireflies were crawling on the inside of his veins, pricking him with their tails and weakening his resolve. He tried desperately to keep still.

"What time is our table?" Alex asked, not taking her eyes off the television. They'd decided to eschew the normal New Year's Eve tradition of going down and getting plastered in Luigi's with the rest of the team for a more sedate celebration of their own. They'd booked a table at a new fish restaurant down in the West End, and then they planned to walk over to Parliament Square to watch the fireworks explode over Big Ben. It had all sounded a bit girly to Gene, but Alex had been so thrilled that they'd managed to get a table that it was worth it, just to see her smile like that.

She didn't wait for his answer before continuing. "I read a review of the restaurant in _The Guardian. _Apparently the prawns are to die for." She leaned her head back against the arm of the sofa and smiled. "I remember when I went to Thailand as a student, and we had these exquisite king prawns fresh out of the sea and roasted over an open fire. They were completely natural – no toxins, no preservatives, nothing. Completely fresh. We just put the tiniest bit of pepper on them for seasoning." She sighed. "The tuna is excellent too, though. The chef braises the steaks in sherry vinegar - very Jamie Oliver. What do you-"

"Alex." He cut across her. He suddenly needed to say it. It had been burning under his skin all week like a secret, threatening to burst from the surface and erupt into this huge, life-changing situation, and now of all times, while she chattered on about fish and Thailand and fancy, nancy cooks, he couldn't hold it in any longer.

She looked at him questioningly. "What? My God, Gene, you're practically puce."

He took a deep breath. "I want to have a baby."

The corner of her mouth tipped up in a smile. "I hardly think you've got the equipment."

"Bloody hell, Alex!" He tried to swallow past his outrage. He'd bared his soul to her, worked up to this moment all week, worrying over what she'd say, imagining her response, anticipating silence or shock or even laughter when she thought he wasn't serious, but not this. Not this casual disregard. "It's not a bloody joke!"

He pushed her legs off his lap and stood up. He felt hot all over.

"All right." She gave him a strange look. "Don't shout at me!"

"Then don't treat me like a child! If I needed one of your clever-clogs, hoity-toity comments, I'd've bloody asked for one!" He clenched his fists and then relaxed, swallowed hard past the humiliation. "Christ, this is embarrassing enough without you treating it like a joke."

"Well, excuse me if I don't take you seriously straight away! We're watching _Carry on Camping_, for Christ's sake. I was hardly expecting you to turn round and say 'By the way, Bolls, fancy popping out a sprog while the adverts are on?'"

She was angry now, he could see that. He'd lost sight of how this had unravelled before the discussion had even begun and he clutched at it, tried to reel it back in, but it was too late. He was hurt, offended that she'd treat this like some mad whim when it was all he'd been craving since the minute he'd found out Shaz was pregnant, and he suddenly wanted to hurt her back.

"I'm guessing it's a no then!" He was shouting. Why was he shouting? That wasn't going to make things better.

"First prize to DCI Hunt!" She turned sharply away. "What was your plan then? Knock me up, stick me on maternity leave and come back to home-cooked meals every night? I'm a _copper_, Gene. I'm not here to run around after you and half a dozen kids!"

He grabbed her arm, pulled her harshly round to look at him. "Am I not good enough for you? Good enough to keep your bed warm and give you a quick shag every now and then, but not up to the job of fathering your children?" He let her go. He felt disgusted at her, at him, at the farce this whole discussion had become.

"Do you want the truth?" She had her hands on her hips, eyes wild with self-righteous anger, shrieking like a Maenad. He saw that her arm was red where he had grabbed her. "Do you _really _want the truth? You're _not _up to the job. You're unstable, Gene! You drink, you smoke, you knock people out if they so much as look at me. You can't even say you love me, for Christ's sake, and you want to bring a baby into this environment?"

He felt her words like blows to his stomach, hollow aches, bitter, justified pain. It was like his heart had shrivelled, the battered, shy heart that she had been slowly mending with her love and her loyalty, and now it had retreated into itself, puckered and given up.

"Well now I know." His voice had dropped to low, angry sarcasm but he was shouting again now, reaching out blindly with his words, seeking to injure her even half as much as she had him. "Of course, you think you're so bloody perfect with your tight jeans and your psycho-bollocks and your touchy-feely-best-buddies relationship with the Super! You think you're so much better than the rest of us, Drake, but you'd sit there in Luigi's and drink yourself into oblivion every ruddy night if I didn't pull you out of there." He shook his head, sickened at the words coming out of his own mouth. "I might be a bastard, Alex, but at least I haven't abandoned my own daughter."

She was staring at him, and there were tears in her eyes, tears that smarted with shock and disbelief. There was a heartbeat when he wondered with hideous satisfaction whether she was going to cry, but then she snatched a cushion from the sofa and hurled it at him, so hard that it smashed the lamp beside him.

"Bastard!" She seized something else, something he didn't see, and flung it in his direction, her shoulders heaving with sobs. "You _bastard!"_

He watched her for a few seconds, hating himself, hating her, and then turned on his heel.

The door slammed with a satisfying thud.

* * *

Chris paused just inside the front door and frowned. For once, he could hear nothing. Asleep, then. Well, there was a first time for everything. He breathed a sigh of relief, closed the door quietly behind him and headed through to the sitting room, shrugging off his jacket and draping it over the back of a chair on the way.

"Shaz?"

She looked up from the sofa as he came in, and not for the first time he was painfully struck by how drawn her face was, by the dark smudges beneath her eyes and the almost translucent quality of her pale skin. She smiled when she saw him, a small, tired smile, but a smile nonetheless. "You're home early."

He perched on the arm of the sofa beside her, taking her hand in his. "Course I am. It's New Year's Eve." He tried to speak bracingly, hoping to see her eyes brighten, but he was rewarded with only the faintest flicker of a smile. "Where's Ruthie?"

"She's asleep." Shaz sighed and pushed a lock of dark hair behind one ear. "I managed to get her off about ten minutes ago...no idea how long it'll last, but I could do with a bit of peace and quiet."

Chris looked at her again, taking note of the creased forehead, the faint line between the eyes which definitely hadn't been there a few days ago, the way in which she held herself, as if she might shatter at the slightest untoward movement. "Why don't you go and lie down?" he suggested. He had a feeling it wasn't the most helpful of solutions, but he'd heard Shaz tell him the same thing herself multiple times and quite frankly he had no idea what else to say. "You're worrying too much, let me –"

"I'm _not_ worrying too much." Shaz pulled her hand out of his and sank her head onto her arms, her eyes glinting with unshed tears. "I'm not even worrying _enough_. Do you know how much we have to think about?"

Feeling, as he quite frequently did, as if he were missing something, Chris frowned. "Steady on, Shazzer, we've got the baby, haven't we? Hardest part's over. We'll have more than enough to worry about in a few years when we have to start thinking about sending her to a good school and grounding her when she comes in late and making rules about when she can see her boyfriend, and –" He broke off, the smile sliding from his face as he registered her glare. "Or her girlfriend, then, I'm not being prejudiced or anything, I –"

"You're not being prejudiced, Chris, you're just being unhelpful." She closed her eyes, screwing them tightly shut. "You have no idea, do you?"

"About what?" he asked, nonplussed.

She sighed and turned back to him with a look of intense exasperation. "About anything. _Everything_." Chris frowned, aware that he should probably know what she was talking about, but clueless nonetheless. With a roll of the eyes, she continued. "Do you know how much money we have?"

"Well, not exactly..." He tried to think back to the last time he'd looked at a bank statement, drew a resolute blank and shrugged. "I mean, not a lot, but we knew it wasn't going to be easy, didn't we? We knew we'd have to cut back on a few things –"

"A few things?" Shaz looked at him in despair. "I don't even know where to start. I don't know what I'm doing, I don't know what I should be doing, and I don't even know if I'm capable of doing whatever it is I should be doing. We can't afford any of what Ruthie needs, do you realise that? It's been less than two weeks and we're already running out of money. You tell me what we're supposed to do about this, because to be perfectly honest, I haven't got a clue."

For a moment, struck by the enormity of the appeal, Chris hesitated. Then, wincing in anticipation of the onslaught he knew would follow his suggestion, he bit his lip. "I know what you're going to say, but...your parents –"

"No!" she retorted fiercely. "I'm not asking my parents for money, Chris. They've got lives of their own, and anyway, I don't want them to think we can't cope."

"They wouldn't think that," he protested, on some level aware that he was making things worse, but determined to try anyway. "They wouldn't see it that way. They know it's difficult, they've done it themselves. If we just asked –"

"I said _no_." She looked furious. "That's the end of it, Chris. I mean it."

"Okay, okay." He put his hands up in a gesture of defeat. "We won't ask them."

She nodded, but her lips were trembling as she spoke. "I won't do it, but I don't...I don't know what else to do." She looked at him with wide eyes, as if seeking an absolution that he had no way of giving her. "I'm no good at this. I don't know how to fix it."

Chris sighed. "Look, Shaz, it'll be fine." He wanted to help, but to him it seemed that she was, as usual, over-thinking things. She always worried more than he did, about money, about work, about everything. "It'll come right in the end, it always does. You'll see, it'll be –"

"No, it _won't_," she told him, the exasperation clear in her voice. "How can you know that? Do you think it's all magically going to sort itself out overnight? Do you think the money we need is just going to appear out of nowhere? You're so – you're so _impractical_ sometimes, Chris."

"Impractical?" He bristled. "I'm doing everything I can, Shaz! I'm working every _hour_ I can. What else am I supposed to do?"

"I don't know," she shot back. He flinched and she sighed, running her hands through her hair. "I'm not _blaming_ you. It's just that I'm not working, and you don't...I mean, your salary isn't..."

"Isn't what?" he demanded, aware that the sudden flush of anger rising inside him was more the product of a long and ultimately fruitless day sifting through paperwork than of a few minutes' argument with Shaz, but nonetheless powerless to stop the resentment creeping up on him. "Isn't good enough?" She didn't say anything. He clenched his fists in frustration. "Is that what I am, then? Not good enough?"

"Chris, I never said that!"

"As good as."

She sighed, and he knew that at any other time, in any other situation, he would be feeling sorry for her, but right now her dejection, the very fact that she seemed to be _giving up_, only annoyed him further. "Chris, I am _so tired_. I haven't slept properly in almost two weeks, I've got a bloody awful headache and I feel like I've aged about fifty years. I really don't need this as well."

"And you think I do?" he said angrily. "I'm doing my best. All I ever wanted was to make this work, to make a life for you and for our baby. I don't need reminding that I screw things up, I don't need reminding that things aren't going well right now, and I _don't_ need reminding that I've never been good enough for you, because don't you think I already know that?"

Shaz blinked. Chris waited for her to say something. Anything. Just open her mouth and release him from this horrible sense of collapse, as if everything was teetering, crumbling and crashing down around him. He waited. She closed her eyes.

"Right." He turned away, grabbed his jacket from the armchair. "Screw this."

"Chris." Shaz was looking at him now, her eyes wide with alarm, gripping the sofa arm with one hand. "Where are you going?"

"Out." The single syllable seemed to leave splinters in his throat, and he saw her flinch. For a single, savage moment, he was glad. Then he was out of the door and the wind was in his hair and when he reached the corner and stopped running he leaned against the wall and screwed his eyes tight shut and, finally, took a deep, shuddering breath.

* * *

Ray and Chris were already settled in the corner of Luigi's when Gene stormed in. He had spent the last hour driving too fast around London, venting his frustration with hard corners and the squeal of brakes. He was still angry, still clinging to that barb of fury, because the moment he allowed himself to think rationally he would feel guilty, and the moment he felt guilty he would go back to Alex. And he knew he was the last person she would want to see right now.

So he slammed into Luigi's with the sole purpose of getting head-in-the-toilet, can't-remember-his-own-name drunk, only to find himself face to face with two members of CID's finest. _Bollocks_.

"All right, Guv?" Ray was already looking a little worse for wear, and it wasn't even eight o'clock. Chris was slumped over a pint, staring into his beer as though it held the secrets of the universe, and he glanced up as Gene appeared.

"I thought you were having a romantic night out with the Boss, Guv," he said miserably, in a poor attempt at conversation. He cut a pathetic figure sitting there, hair in disarray and skin blotchy from drink and emotion, head propped heavily on one hand. Gene scowled at him anyway.

"Yes, thank you, DC Skelton. And I thought you were having a cosy night in with your wife and baby, but you seem to be hunched over a pint of Luigi's finest with a face like a slapped arse."

Ray laughed. "Oho, he's got you there, mate."

Gene gave him a look. "And when I need your approval, Carling, I'll bloody ask for it." He dropped heavily into a seat and slammed his palm on the sticky table. "Luigi! Whisky, now!"

Luigi appeared, gazing at him dolefully from over his lugubrious moustache as he set the tumbler down in front of him. "Mr 'unt, it is so early, and you drink so much."

"And you, Luigi, talk too much. If I wanted to be nagged about my shortcomings as a man, I'd visit the lovely DI Bollyknickers upstairs." His voice dripped with sarcasm and Luigi melted quickly into the throng of merry-makers. There were few men who wanted to be around Gene Hunt in a bad mood, and Luigi was not one of them. Gene watched him go and grunted, turning to glare at his team. "So what are you two tossers really doing here? Thought you'd be out with a bird, Raymondo."

"Nah, we're having a lads' night out, aren't we, Chris? Going to hit some bars later, see if I can find a tasty piece of skirt to warm up at midnight." He winked. "That one over there's been staring at me since we arrived." He leaned towards Gene and made a juggling motion with his hands. "Cracking pair of tits."

Gene glanced in her direction. "Bloody hell. You could get lost in there."

Ray gave him a calculating look. "Go for it, Guv. Start the New Year off with a bang, like." He waggled his eyebrows, pleased with his own pun. "It's been ages since we've all been out together. Three Musketeers, we used to be, before you two got all gooey over a couple of birds."

"Much as your wit astounds me, Ray, I don't think Mrs Woman upstairs would be impressed if she found me getting a five-knuckle shuffle from a prozzie in a bar. And for your information, the day I go gooey over a bird is the day you look down and find your knob's fallen off and been eaten by an iguana. Gene Hunt does not do silly, nancy, girly, romantic _bollocks_." He spat the words out like darts, daring Ray to challenge him.

"Can't see Drake anywhere round here, myself. Lovers' tiff, was it?" Ray's eyes were bleary with drink, and he was too far gone to realise that Gene was in no mood for teasing. Even thinking about Alex made his stomach clench with her rejection and he downed his drink, felt it blaze a trail of heat down his gullet.

"I'd tread very carefully if I were you, DS Carling. I'm your superior officer, not your bloody knitting partner." He turned pointedly to Chris, who had thus far been ignoring the conversation, choosing instead to down another couple of pints in the hope of forgetting whatever he'd come out to escape. He was a mess, his eyes bloodshot with drink and what Gene desperately hoped weren't tears. "What's up with you, Skelton? Bad episode of _Fame_?"

"What?" Chris looked up at him, and Gene saw he was in a worse state than he'd first thought.

"You're bloody twatted."

Ray shook his head, fishing out a fag and lighting up. "Twonk. He was half-cut before he came in."

"Piss off, Ray." Chris was slurring slightly, but evidently able to follow the conversation. "I'm not sitting in that bloody flat being nagged to death for three hours. It's like one of them horror stories you hear about marriage, innit? Getting nagged all the time."

"Too right, mate. You were nuts getting hitched in the first place, if you ask me."

Gene downed his whisky and called for another. "Women," he stated, slamming his hand on the table, "are the cause of half the problems in this bloody world. We're better off without them." Christ, he was drunk already. Did it even matter? He couldn't see why it would anymore, so he just stole a fag from Ray and sat back, glass in his hand and eyes on the cracking tits of the woman at the bar. With any luck he'd be pissed as a priest at Communion within the hour.

However, despite his best attempts, by the time the New Year countdown started, he was relatively sober. Chris was passed out beside him and Ray was snogging the face off some bird in the corner, and all he could think of, suddenly, was Alex. Why had they argued? Maybe if he just went upstairs and kissed her... But then it came back to him, what he'd said, what she'd said, and it didn't seem such a good idea anymore.

He lurched to his feet. They were seconds away from 1984 and he couldn't bear to start the year sitting next to his sozzled DC in a dingy basement bar, so he staggered outside, up the steps and along the road. Over his head, fireworks exploded but he carried on walking until he was far enough from the station that no one would see him, and then he sat down on someone's front step and drank from his hip flask until the fireworks stopped and the night was calm.

By the time he stumbled back up the steps and let himself into the flat, it was after two and he could barely put one foot in front of the other. Mind numbed by drink, he collapsed onto the sofa and passed out into blissful oblivion.


End file.
